On June 18, 1918, a troop train carrying soldiers from Camp MacArthur’s 80th Field Artillery left East Waco and traveled eastward on the Cotton Belt line, heading toward a southern training camp. After traveling for fifteen minutes (about seven miles), the train derailed just north of Selby, killing Corporals Laurn Harrell and August Handschumacher, Jr. and injuring about thirty military personnel and four railroad employees.
According to a report made by the Interstate Commerce Commission (ICC) on the incident, Troop Train Number 264 consisted of fourteen passenger coaches, six freight cars, and a caboose, and was a Baldwin Consolidation-type, 2-8-0, Number 510, of the St. Louis Southwestern Railway of Texas, also known as the Cotton Belt line.
The derailment occurred as the train approached a trestle crossing the Tehuacana Creek. After an official investigation and upon hearing statements from the train’s engineer, Statham, the ICC came to the conclusion that a sun kink served as the main factor in the accident. Sun kinks can occur when extreme heat causes rails to bulge or spread. At the time of the accident on that June day, it was reported to be 103 degrees. Statham reported to the agency that the sun kink was “3 to 5 inches in width and about half a rail length long, located about 400 feet south of the trestle; he then set the air [brakes] in emergency and jumped.”
The ICC report also factored in the poor condition of the track: “this section was not properly supported by a ballast, and should not have been permitted to remain in that condition.” This information led to the determination that the locomotive began its derailment 113 feet south of the trestle, causing the engine to turn over when it began to cross. A Waco News-Tribune account of June 19, 1918, states: "at the time of the wreck [the train] was passing over a wooden bridge across Tehuacana Creek. As the engine went onto the bridge, timbers suddenly gave way and the locomotive ploughed through.”
The ICC found no mechanical problems with the Baldwin Locomotive Number 510. However, the arrangement of the cars made the event more tragic. During the derailment, the engine’s tender cistern detached from its frame, and unfortunately, the first passenger car directly behind it was composed entirely of wood. The tender’s frame and tank practically demolished the wooden coach, and the two deaths and many of the injuries occurred in this car. The ICC claimed that placing this lighter wooden coach behind the locomotive with the heavier steel cars behind it “undoubtedly increased the danger of injury to the passengers.”
Much speculation followed the incident as to the cause. On June 19, 1918, the Waco News-Tribune reported on a popular belief: “The favorite opinion of the hundreds of officers, camp and railroad officials, and citizen spectators, was that the bridge or the rails had been tampered with, by persons knowing of the troop movement.” With the United States into its second year of involvement in World War I, it is not surprising that such theories of sabotage were being put forth. Just a few days after the derailment, the investigation reports debunked these theories.
]]>Through his provocative writing career, William Cowper Brann proved that if the pen wasn’t mightier than the sword, it was at least as cutting.
Brann was born on January 4, 1855, in Coles County, Illinois, the son of Presbyterian minister Noble J. Brann. After his mother's death in 1857, his father placed him in the care of a neighboring farm couple, William and Mary Hawkin. In 1868, at the age of thirteen, he departed from his foster family to make his own way.
After leaving the Hawkinses, Brann did not receive any more formal education. He moved about from city to city, working as a hotel bellboy, as a painter’s helper, and eventually in a print shop. There he became a cub reporter, and began to travel from St. Louis to Galveston to Houston and then to San Antonio, gaining a reputation as a brilliant though vitriolic editorialist. On March 3, 1877, Brann married Carrie Belle Martin at Rochelle, Illinois; they were the parents of three children.
Brann moved to Austin in 1891 and there, staking all of his limited savings, launched the first issue of his "journal of personal protest," the Iconoclast. The journal failed, and he left Texas until October of 1892, when he became editor of the San Antonio Express. In 1894, he moved to Waco as the chief editorialist for the Waco Daily News. Still determined, and with a growing reserve of his lurid essays, in February 1895, he recommenced publication of the Iconoclast. This time the paper was successful, and within less than a year Brann's future and that of his magazine were assured.
Brann's writing style was unique: an imaginative blending of the beautiful with the banal and barbaric, poetic tenderness with cow-lot crudity, supported throughout by lightning flashes of original thought, philosophy, and wit. But as the title implied, Brann took obvious pleasure in directing his stinging attacks upon institutions and persons he considered to be hypocritical or overly sanctimonious. Among such was Waco's renowned Baylor University, which he scourged as a "great storm center of misinformation." He by no means confined his distaste to Baptists and was especially keen to express his dislike of Episcopalians, anything British, and perhaps his greatest vitriol was reserved for African Americans.
Brann gained renown in the Waco community outside of the Iconoclast as well. He became sought after for his lectures, and even tried his hand as a playwright. In 1889, he registered three plays at the Library of Congress: Cleon, That American Woman, and Retribution.
The paper attracted a multitude of friends and admirers as well as detractors and enemies, and within a few years Brann had rather effectively divided the community into two camps. In November of 1897, one of his supporters, County Judge G. B. Gerald, engaged in a street battle with pistols with the editor of the Waco Times-Herald, J. W. Harris, and his brother, W. A. Harris. Both Harrises died in this encounter, and the judge lost an arm. On April 1, 1898, Brann was shot in the back by a brooding supporter of Baylor named Tom Davis, but before the editor died he was able to draw his own pistol and shoot his assailant to death.
Long before the age of radio shock jocks and provocative television pundits, William Cowper Brann used his particular brand of incendiary journalism to rally supporters and incite opponents in the heart of Texas.
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]]>Before the construction of dams along Texas rivers in the mid-twentieth century, many cities experienced severe flooding. The Brazos River Basin frequently flooded, wreaking havoc upon those who lived near the banks. Although periodic flooding aided cotton farmers in the early nineteenth century, it hindered the development of infrastructure along the river.
Despite its destructive force, the river provided a wealth of resources for trade, transportation, drinking water, and hydroelectric power. Additionally, many Wacoans desired to use the river as an alternative to the railroads for transporting crops. In 1905, the Rivers and Harbors Act provided funds for the US Army Corps of Engineers to build a series of locks and dams on the Brazos just south of Waco to make it navigable and less prone to flooding. Yet in December 1913, all these efforts proved to be for naught.
Frequent storms in the fall of 1913 often left rivers swollen and water standing in fields. On the morning of December 5, 1913, widespread, heavy rain began to fall across Central Texas. This rainfall added to the already swollen waters of the Brazos River. As the river grew, it overflowed its banks and inundated much of East Waco. The raging waters killed two people and destroyed numerous businesses and houses. The river shifted course due to the heavy flooding, rendering the corps of engineers’ construction project useless. Due to the high cost of rebuilding and the onset of World War I, further efforts to construct a dam were abandoned.
Further south in Texas, the Brazos River and Colorado River overflowed their banks and joined, thereby changing the course of the river and killing 172 people. Recognizing the dire need to curb the unpredictability of the Brazos River, the Brazos River and Valley Improvement Association formed in 1915. Though the association met with the federal Committee on Flood Control on several occasions, the reach of its efforts was limited by its lack of funding.
Although the results were not immediately visible, the 1913 flood spurred action for institution of measures to protect the city of Waco from further flooding, such as the Texas State Legislature flood control study in 1923 and the construction of the first Lake Waco Dam in 1929.
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]]>Society in the South evolved ensuing the emancipation of slaves after the Civil War. The Reconstruction of the South ended in 1877 and only added to the bad racial tensions in the region. Whites instituted laws that held blacks back from education, jobs, and participating in many forms of government. Lynching of blacks became rather prevalent and reached fever pitch in the 1890s all across the United States, but mostly in the South. Lynching escalated during the 1920s and Texas ranked third among states between the years 1885 and 1942 with approximately 468, including 339 blacks. The only states that had more lynching incidents were Mississippi and Georgia.
In May 1916, Jesse Washington, a seventeen year old black teenager, was arrested for the killing of Lucy Fryer, a fifty-three year old white woman. Washington would later confess to raping and killing Fryer. Wanting to avoid an attack on Washington while in custody in Waco, authorities in McLennan County sent Washington to a Dallas jail to await his trial. When his trial took place on May 15, 1916, Washington arrived back in Waco to a packed court room. Twelve white men formed his jury, and they found him guilty of murder after only four minutes of deliberation.
A mob had gathered around the courthouse prior to the trial and waited for their chance to capture Washington. After his conviction, the jailers took Washington down the back stairs of the courthouse, where the mob had been waiting. The mob of white citizens wrapped a chain around Washington’s neck and dragged him to city hall grounds, brutally stabbing and beating him as they went along.
A separate mob prepared a pile of dry-good boxes, which they ignited after they poured coal oil over Washington’s body. A crowd estimated to be between 15,000 to 20,000 people watched as the belligerents hung Washington from a tree and slowly lowered him up and down over the burning boxes.
After two hours of monstrously lynching Washington, the mob took his body and placed it in a bag and dragged it to Robinson, Texas, which was the hometown of Fryer and a large African-American population. The charred and mangled body of Washington hung from a utility pole in front of a blacksmith’s shop until a McLennan County Constable took his remains down and buried them. Washington’s unclaimed remains were later buried in a local potters field. The news of Jesse Washington’s lynching received national and international coverage. Horrific pictures capturing the violence and mob were taken by local photographer Fred Gildersleeve. He profited from selling these images as postcards and prints of the lynching were distributed globally.
Waco had seen another lynching previous to that of Washington. A mob had lynched an African American man by the name of Sank Majors in 1905. After a jury deliberated only three minutes in his trial, Majors was found guilty and two hundred men seized and dragged him to the town square, where they hung him from the Washington Street Bridge.
The lynchings took place during the time of the Jim Crow Laws in the South. These laws legally separated blacks and whites in numerous institutions such as schools, restrooms, and various types of transportation. “Separate but equal” had been affirmed by a 7-1 margin in the Plessy v. Ferguson case in 1896 by the Supreme Court of the United States.
The aftermath of the “Waco Horror” included a push to end lynching around the country. People began to see lynching as a barbaric act and started condemning those who participated in them. The NAACP led the charge in getting anti-lynching laws passed in light of the Washington lynching, which led to the decline of lynching after the 1920s and into the early 1960s. Lynching also had an effect on the arts. Billie Holiday released her song "Strange Fruit," and in 1935, two art exhibitions were displayed in New York City, one of which the NAACP sponsored.
In 2001, the lynching of Jesse Washington became national and local news again when ABC News Nightline aired an eighty-fifth anniversary special. Four years later, Patricia Bernstein released her book, "The First Waco Horror: The Lynching of Jesse Washington and the Rise of the NAACP," and it inspired the Waco community to call for local governments to apologize for the lynching. The Community Race Relations Coalition framed a resolution of apology, read it on the McLennan County Courthouse steps, and encouraged both the McLennan County Commissioners and Waco City Council to pass the resolution. After much debate over the word "apology," and the word's eventual removal, the McLennan County Commissioners passed a resolution condemning the lynching culture and mob violence of the past on May 23, 2006. The Waco City Council passed a similar resolution a little over a month later. Neither resolution included Jesse Washington by name.
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]]>On May 11, 1953, a destructive force tore through Waco and forever altered the face of the city. The tornado injured 600 people, took 114 lives, and damaged hundreds of businesses. The chaotic aftermath of this deadly storm left an indelible mark upon the Waco community.
On the morning of May 11, the New Orleans Weather Bureau issued a tornado warning for West and Central Texas. Yet life in Waco continued at its normal pace. Some Wacoans placed stock in the old Waco Indian legend that claimed that the hills and bluffs surrounding the city kept it safe from tornados. Others, such as Baylor geologist emeritus O.T. Hayward, argued that Waco was situated atop an an uplift on the Balcones escarpment (or fault line) served to precipitate severe weather along the I-35 corridor, which roughly follows the escarpment. Still, few took heed of the storm warnings issued by the National Weather Service that day, as the weather was the same as it had been for days: warm and muggy.
The weather grew severe as the day progressed. Thunderstorms developed, and many downtown shoppers and businessmen rushed into buildings in order to take cover from the rain. Around 4 p.m. the sky suddenly darkened and hail the size of baseballs fell. It seemed to many as though night had fallen. As the storm worsened, some tried to contact family and loved ones, only to find the phone lines had gone dead.
Around 4:30, a tornado touched down southwest of Waco and tore through residential areas. At 4:36, it struck downtown Waco. The F-5 tornado cut a swath nearly one-third of a mile wide with winds up to 260 miles per hour. After tearing through downtown, it exited the city and continued northeast for several more miles.
Many of the buildings in downtown Waco were not built with such a severe storm in mind. Only buildings with steel-frame structures, such as the Amicable (ALICO) building and the Roosevelt Hotel, were able to withstand the severe winds. Others, such as the R. T. Dennis building, collapsed, killing thirty of the people within and injuring several more. The tornado destroyed 196 buildings, and damaged hundreds of others so badly that they were later torn down. Some, such as the Dr Pepper bottling plant, withstood smaller amounts of damage which the owners later repaired. Outside of downtown, the tornado demolished nearly six hundred homes in East Waco.
The aftermath of the storm was chaotic, and confusion and disorganization characterized initial rescue efforts. The destruction was massive, and the city was entirely unprepared to handle such a disaster. Survivors served as the first responders, and as personnel from James Connelly Air Force Base, local and state law enforcement, Baylor University students, and others joined the work, an organizational system developed. Members of the Red Cross, Salvation Army, National Guard, army, and air force also arrived to aid in the rescue efforts.
Though estimates vary, approximately $51 million of property damages occurred. The city received around $9 million in order to aid recovery, including federal assistance, a grant from the Red Cross, and private donations collected by local civic leaders. Yet even this relief could not counter the serious blow the tornado dealt to the downtown business community. Some areas of the city never fully recovered.
Although this catastrophe, recognized as the deadliest Texas tornado since 1900, devastated downtown, it also brought the Waco community together. Countless hours of volunteer efforts poured into the recovery of the city. The aftermath of the Waco tornado also contributed to the development of an efficient tornado warning system for the entire nation, and promoted greater communication amongst relief agencies to better deal with future disasters.
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]]>The city of Waco derives its name from the agrarian indigenous group that originally resided in the area. The Waco, or Wi-iko, Indians were a tribe of the Wichita that arrived in Central Texas in the 1700s. The tribe’s early history is difficult to establish because of a lack of written records due to their oral tradition. Spanish settlers first wrote of an encounter with the Waco Indians in 1772, when Athanase de Mésière noticed two villages during his trek up the Brazos River.
Life in Waco Indian Village centered upon the tribe’s agrarian pursuits. The Wacos farmed crops such as melons, pumpkins, lima beans, and corn. During planting and harvesting seasons, they resided in their permanent village, which consisted of beehive-shaped dwellings that were constructed from poles and thatched with grasses and willow. After harvesting the crops in the fall, the Waco Indians traveled the plains, hunting deer and buffalo in order to feed the tribe. While hunting, they lived in makeshift, temporary teepees.
Tensions rose as more white settlers arrived in the area in the early nineteenth century. As settlers encroached upon their land, the Wacos raided white settlements, often stealing horses and occasionally murdering settlers. Stephen F. Austin wanted to attack the village in order to establish a colony and prevent further raids, but the Mexican government denied this request. In 1824, Austin sent a delegation to meet with the Wacos and, after some negotiation, established a peace treaty.
Some accounts say that a band of Cherokee from East Texas raided the Waco Indian Village in 1829 in order to avenge some stolen horses. Others tell of a smallpox epidemic which devastated the village. Although it is not clear if these accounts speak specifically of this native settlement, it is known that a permanent Waco Indian village no longer existed upon the Brazos River after 1830. The loss of the village dealt a serious blow to the Waco Indians. Encroaching settlers forced them to move slowly farther and farther up the Brazos River.
The tribe signed several treaties in the mid-nineteenth century with the US government. Each treaty referred to the Waco, Tawakoni, and Wichita people by the name “Wichita.” The first treaty gathered the Wichita at the Brazos Indian Reservation in North Texas, on the Brazos River, a few miles south of Fort Belknap. After a treaty in 1859, federal troops moved the Wichita to a reservation in Indian Territory in present-day Oklahoma. In 1900, the government broke up the reservation territory into individual plots, ending the Wichita Indians’ communal way of life.
The Waco Indians became a part of the Wichita and Affiliated Tribes and continued to reside in Anadarko, Oklahoma. In 1912, Clint Padgitt brought a group of the Waco Indians back to Waco in order to participate in an exhibition at the Texas Cotton Palace Exposition. Escorted by Indian fighter John Ross, the Waco Indians resided in a fabricated village, exciting much interest and drawing record crowds. They lived in teepees, did war dances taught to them at the beginning of the exposition, and wore native “costumes,” curious combinations of modern and native clothing.
Today, the Waco Indians continue to reside in Oklahoma. Several tribal leaders returned to visit Waco in 2014 for the rededication and correction of the historical marker commemorating the location of the Waco Indian Village. Waco city leaders and historians cite this visit as a start to developing a better relationship with the people who originally inhabited this area and from which the city draws its name. Wichita leaders believed that restoring connections with Waco was an important step in rediscovering the tribe’s roots.
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]]>Shortly after the 1936 flood waters had receded and cleanup was well under way, disaster struck Waco again. On October 4, the Liberty Building on Austin Avenue and Sixth Street exploded, fatally wounding 65-year-old janitor Warren Moore and causing an estimated $290,000 in damages to the structure, as well as those adjoining and nearby. Fortunately it happened on an early Sunday morning without the usual hustle and bustle of the busy Waco downtown area, or else casualties could have been much higher. Businesses affected by the incident included the F. W. Woolworth Co.; Law Offices of Sleeper, Boynton, and Kendall; Walgreens Drug Store; Pipkin Drug Store; and Goldstein-Migel department store. Other businesses suffered minor damage, and isolated injuries to people were reported.
A Waco News-Tribune article from October 5, 1936 detailed the Liberty Building's damages: “With its first three office floors converted into single rooms by force of the explosion Sunday morning, the Liberty building showed destruction from its basement to its roof.” The structure next door, F. W. Woolworth Co., suffered an estimated $75,000 in losses due to fire. The law office located on the fourth floor of the Liberty Building sustained serious damage. Its law library, several thousand volumes of books, was its greatest loss. The blast completely destroyed Pipkin Drug Store on the first floor. The nearby Walgreens Drug Store suffered heavy damage to its storefront and interior.
In the aftermath of the explosion, investigators wasted little time searching for the cause of such a devastating accident. One initial theory was that a massive buildup of floodwater had overburdened the city’s sewage system and triggered the blast. However, the Liberty Building’s location on Sixth Street and Austin Avenue proved to be too much of a distance from the most affected areas closer to the river for this theory to be plausible.
After almost two years of thorough investigation, engineers determined that the explosion was caused by a gas leak from a loose coupling device on a two-inch pipe in the Liberty Building’s basement. Records from gas companies showed a surge in pressure around the time of the explosion. Based on some of Warren Moore’s statements before his death, it is believed that a spark from a light switch ignited the gas leak as the janitor turned out lights before seeking assistance with the sudden gaseous odor. Unfortunately, that well-intentioned move cost him his life.
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